


(like snow) in summer

by ephemeralsky



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hotarubi no Mori e AU, M/M, where everything is nice and cute until you realize that a yokai cant be with a human....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 08:00:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6110218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralsky/pseuds/ephemeralsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Koutarou has stopped crying by then, and he blinks back the wetness in his eyes. </p><p>“Human…? But Mister, aren’t you also a human being?”</p><p>The boy shifts a little, a hand resting on the bark of the tree next to him.</p><p>“I’m… something that lives in the forest.” </p><p>(or: Bokuto Koutarou gets lost in the forest where he meets and forms a relationship with the not-so-human Keiji over the course of ten summers)</p>
            </blockquote>





	(like snow) in summer

**Author's Note:**

> based on Midorikawa Yuki's "Hotarubi no Mori e" that kills me eac h ti m e

Koutarou is six when he meets him.

It’s summer, and he’s playing with the village children by the river on a particularly hot, humid day when one of them suggests a game of hide and seek.

Koutarou, brave and foolhardy, decides to find a spot in the forest that grows along the other side of the river.

_“Don’t go into the forest.”_

(That’s what the adults always say.)

Which makes his hiding strategy a perfect one.

He ventures rather deep into the thicket until he finds a tree that he likes and begins to climb it.

Minutes pass by, and Koutarou idly swings his legs as he sits on a branch, wondering what his grandmother will cook for dinner.

Hours pass by, and Koutarou starts to think that his friends have forgotten about him.

Game of hide and seek shoved to the back of his mind, he climbs down the tree and quietly scans the area.

He thinks he might be lost.

_I’m a tough boy, so I mustn’t cry!_

His palms begin to feel clammy and he squeezes his hands into tight fists.

He ignores his speeding heart rate and the fear that’s creeping up his skin as he glances around, trying to remember which way he came from.

_“There are spirits and the mountain god living in the forest. That’s why you must never go there.”_

The snap of a twig has him whipping around to the source of the sound, and he’s getting ready to fight a bear or a tengu, but there is no bear, no animal, no tengu – no one – coming from that side.

“Hey, little kid. Are you lost?”

Koutarou snaps his head towards the opposite direction, to where the voice is.

A man – no, a boy, though older than himself – is standing among the trees, a safe distance from Koutarou. He’s wearing an unbuttoned flannel shirt over a white undershirt and pants that stop at his calves, his feet sandal-clad.

(He never wears anything else.)

Jet-black hair crowns his head, the short, soft-looking quills curling at the ends.

On his face is a fox mask.

“Are you lost?” he asks again, his calm timbre of a voice slightly stifled by the mask that’s covering his whole face.

Koutarou has never been more relieved to see another human being, and washed with reprieve, he runs towards the figure, arms spread, tears springing to his eyes.

“It’s a person!” he yells, “I’m saved!”

The boy swerves to the right and Koutarou runs headlong into a tree.

Tears are running down his face now, but it’s not from the relief.

He glares at the stranger as he chokes back a sob and rubs the sore spot on his forehead.

“Sorry,” the boy says, “You caught me by surprise.”

His voice is a bit detached, but Koutarou thinks it’s not just the mask that’s making it sound the way it is.

“You… you’re a human child, aren’t you? If a human touches me, I’ll disappear.”

Koutarou has stopped crying by then, and he blinks back the wetness in his eyes.

“Human…? But Mister, aren’t you also a human being?”

The boy shifts a little, a hand resting on the bark of the tree next to him.

“I’m… something that lives in the forest.”

Koutarou’s eyes sparkle with fascination.

“Does that mean you’re a spirit?! That’s so cool!” He grins, but then he cocks his head to one side in confusion. “But what do you mean you’ll disappear?”

The boy doesn’t answer.

Koutarou takes a step closer towards him, then another, hand reaching out to try and grab him. The boy easily evades his advances, and when Koutarou breaks into a sprint to jump on him, he is punished by a thwack to his head with a stick.

Koutarou howls in pain, tears returning to his eyes.

“You’re really not human, to hit a child like that,” he blubbers, now rubbing the bruise on his head.

“To disappear,” the boy begins, “Is to be obliterated.”

Koutarou stops crying.

“It’s a spell that the mountain god placed on me.”

He is facing away from Koutarou, head tipped up towards the rustling foliage of the trees around them.

“If a human touches me, that would be the end.”

Koutarou looks down, lower lip jutted out.

“I’m sorry,” he says, remorseful.

The boy is quiet for a while, before he extends the stick that he used to smack Koutarou.

“Here, grab the other end. You’re lost aren’t you?” he’s still looking away, but his voice is slightly warmer, “I’ll lead you out of the forest.”

Koutarou grins again. “Thank you!” he shouts as he breaks into a run and tries to hug the stranger.

A startled grunt and another whack to the head later, the two of them make their way through the thicket together, each holding one end of the stick.

Koutarou hums as they walk down the stone steps that lead to the old abandoned shrine on the mountaintop.

“This feels like a date!” he sings.

“Not a very romantic date,” the boy sings back drily.

Koutarou giggles.

“You’re… not afraid.”

He turns to the boy, the hum of the tune paused, but his expression is still bright. “Of what?”

“Never mind.”

They reach the torii, the gate the separates the land of the sacrilegious and the divine, but the two pillars are now cracked and covered in moss.

“Just continue walking down this path and you’ll reach the village.” The boy with the mask does not step beyond the torii, “Well then, goodbye.”

“What about you, Mister? Will you always be here? If I come back, can I see you again?”

Koutarou feels rather than sees the boy staring at him through the fox mask.

“This is the forest where the mountain god and the spirits live. Set foot within and you’ll lose your way, and you’ll never be able to return. You shouldn’t come here.”

The wind blows over them, and the boy pauses, his hair swaying in the breeze.

“That’s what the villagers always say, right?” he finishes.

Koutarou looks at him, at the round, beady eyes of the fox, the red whiskers and snout, the golden starburst pattern between the eyes.

A smile makes its way to Koutarou’s face as he says, “My name is Bokuto Koutarou. What’s yours?”

Powerful gusts of wind glide by, blowing dry leaves past them, and when the boy doesn’t answer, Koutarou turns around, ready to leave, but not without saying “I’ll come back tomorrow!” over his shoulder.

“It’s Keiji.”

Koutarou immediately halts and spins around, but Keiji is already gone, and there is no one there.

*

“Grandpa, is it true that there are spirits living in the forest?”

“You mean the mountain god’s forest? Hmm, who knows?”

Koutarou watches as his grandfather scratches his chin, a smile on his lips as he recalls memories from times gone by.

“When I was a kid like you, I used to want to meet the spirits, so my friends and I would go into the forest. I never got to meet one, but I swear that sometimes I would see something moving out of the corner of my eyes,” his grandfather chuckles, “Now that I think about it, I remember one of my friends saying that she once went to a summer festival in the forest.”

“A festival?”

“Yeah. But there’s no way that the villagers would hold a festival in the woods, so we all assumed that –”

“The spirits!” Koutarou cuts in, excited, “It was the spirits’ festival wasn’t it?”

His grandfather ruffles his hair, laughing, “Maybe. Are you interested in the supernatural, Koutarou?”

“Yeah, I think they’re mysterious and cool!”

“Well, just don’t go into the forest anymore, alright? Your mother won’t let you come here during summer anymore if she finds out that you’ve been playing anywhere near the woods.”

Koutarou grins sheepishly and promises to not venture into the forest again.

_“This is the forest where the mountain god and the spirits live. Set foot within and you’ll lose your way, and you’ll never be able to return. You shouldn’t come here.”_

*

Koutarou goes into the forest again the next day, following the path that leads to the dilapidated shrine gates, a plastic bag containing two popsicles in hand.

Keiji is sitting leisurely at the steps of the torii, one knee drawn up against his chest.

“You really did come back.”

Koutarou gasps in pleasant surprise, before a grin splits his face as he breaks into a sprint towards Keiji, arms held out. “I’m glad you waited for me!”

A stick is swung and hits Koutarou squarely on his forehead.

“You never learn, do you?” Keiji asks as Koutarou groans in pain.

“Sorry, I was just happy to see you.”

Keiji breathes a laughter through his nose.

“It’s rather hot here. Shall we go somewhere cooler?”

Koutarou’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Don’t worry,” Keiji adds, “I’ll make sure to bring you back here.”

Koutarou smiles at the promise, and they traverse through the woods, between the trees and bushes, the chirp of cicadas accompanying them.

Keiji lifts his mask up just enough to expose a pair of pink lips as he eats one of the popsicle, and Koutarou eats his own share as they walk side by side under the cool shade of the forest canopy.

He makes sure that there is a safe distance between them.

Koutarou sees something move in the periphery of his vision, and he stops in his tracks.

A large shadow slithers along the grass, morphing into a mud-colored creature as it lurks behind a tree, smiling not too pleasantly at Koutarou.

“Keiji,” it calls out, voice dripping with ulterior motives, “Is that a human child? Can I eat it?”

Koutarou quickly hides behind Keiji, trying to quell his fear.

“You can’t. He’s a friend,” Keiji answers coolly.

“Aw, that’s too bad,” the creature says. “Human child,” the slits of its eyes narrow in on Koutarou, “Don’t touch Keiji’s skin. If you do, I’ll eat you.”

“Konoha, that’s enough.”

Konoha laughs, a low guttural sound that makes the hair on Koutarou’s skin stand, before he shifts back into a mass of shadows, slithering away again.

Keiji sighs. “Don’t mind him. He talks big, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Is he a spirit?” Koutarou asks, looking at the direction Konoha slinked away to.

“Yes.”

Koutarou’s golden eyes widen. “That means I just met a spirit! They really do exist!” he announces, hands thrown up in the air, “This is amazing!”

“You _do_ realize that I’m also a spirit,” Keiji points out.

“Yeah, but you look like a human, so it’s different!”

“I see.”

They begin walking again, and Koutarou asks, giddily, “Hey, Keiji. Are you like the No-Face spirit from that Ghibli movie? Is that why you’re wearing a mask?”

“I don’t have a particular reason for wearing it.”

Koutarou wilts a little at the elliptical answer. “Oh.”

“Never mind me,” Keiji says, “Tell me about yourself, Koutarou.”

Koutarou perks up again. “Are you curious?”

“I am. That’s why I waited for you.”

Koutarou grins, happy, and he runs ahead to the clearing in front of them, sunlight pouring down.

*

He comes back the next day, and the day after that, and the days that follow. Keiji would always wait for him by the torii steps, and they would go into the forest, and play by the pond or run around on the open fields in the middle of the woods. Koutarou would occasionally bring snacks, and Keiji would teach him how to make boats out of leaves and crowns out of flowers.

Koutarou, to no one’s surprise, finds that he loves spending time with Keiji, laughing the summer days away.

He’s humming as he picks a few flowers from the flower patch that grows in the middle of the meadows to bring them home for his grandmother, and he turns around to find Keiji lying on the grass, unmoving.

The clouds drift by, slowly, and Koutarou wonders if he’s fallen asleep.

He crawls closer to where Keiji is.

_He’s never taken off his mask, has he?_

Hesitant hands hover over the fox mask.

_It’s okay to touch the mask, right?_

Gently, Koutarou lifts the mask off, and, for the first time, he sees Keiji’s face.

It’s a nice face, with fair, unblemished skin and a delicate jaw, and Koutarou stares at it, without thinking of anything else.

Keiji opens his eyes and Koutarou catches sight of their greyish green color before he hastily presses the mask back onto his face, eliciting a strangled noise from Keiji.  

“I’m sorry!!”

Keiji sits up, legs crossed, elbow on one knee, hand propped under his chin.

“Oh my, Koutarou is certainly a bold young man, attacking someone in their sleep,” he says, tone flat.

Koutarou puffs his cheeks out. “But you were pretending to be asleep, weren’t you?”

Keiji doesn’t give an immediate response. Instead, he straightens his back and tips his head to the side a little.

“I look normal, don’t I?”

A voluptuous brume of cloud drones by and blots the sun out.

Koutarou curls his hands as they rest on his lap.

“Why are you wearing the mask?”

“If I don’t, I won’t look like a spirit, will I?”

The tiny smile that passes Koutarou’s face is accompanied by a frown.

“You’re weird.”

Keiji gives a small chuckle, and they don’t say anything further.

As always, Keiji guides him back to the path that will lead Koutarou to the village, and as they walk down the stone steps, Koutarou says, a little reluctantly, “Keiji, I won’t be able to come here tomorrow.”

He is a step behind Keiji, and he wonders if Keiji has always walked at a slower pace so Koutarou could keep up with him.

“I told you before about it, right? That I’m only here during summer to stay with my grandparents? Tomorrow, I’m going back to the city.”

Keiji gives a noncommittal hum, and Koutarou’s shoulders droop at the response.

Keiji stops in his tracks, and turns around.

“Will you come again next year?”

Koutarou blinks, before a huge smile illuminates his face.

“Of course!”

With that, summer becomes Koutarou’s favorite season; a time that he looks forward to all year.

*

When summer comes again, Keiji is waiting for him by the usual spot, and it’s like nothing has changed.

“Still with the same messy hair and short legs, I see.”

“Hey, I’m still growing okay! And at least my hair isn’t all curly like yours!”

Keiji snorts.

“Well then, shall we go?”

And it’s really as if nothing has changed, as if they saw each other yesterday and said goodbye after spending the whole day dunking their feet in the pond and splashing water all over each other.

(The concept of time eludes you when you’re a child.)

As Koutarou rattles on about what he’s been up to the past few months, a loud creak resounds through the air, and before he knows it, a large, wooden claw looms out between him and Keiji, branching out from a tree. The ligneous fingers loosely wrap around Keiji’s body, as if to shield him from Koutarou.

“Keiji!” he cries out, helplessly, afraid for his friend.

But Keiji seems unperturbed.

“Keiji, it’s dangerous. That is a human child. If he touches you, you’ll disappear.”

“Thank you, Washio, for worrying. But I’m fine,” Keiji says, and Koutarou can hear the reassuring smile in his words.

With a loud creak, the wooden claws extricate themselves from Keiji, and the entity leaves with a final reminder. “Please don’t touch him, human child.”

Koutarou stares at the branches of the tree, nodding numbly. “Yes.”

Tiny voices follow them as they make their way through the forest.

_“Keiji, please be careful.”_

_“Human child, don’t touch his skin.”_

_“Don’t get too close, Keiji.”_

Koutarou glances around, trying to see where the voices are coming from, but to no avail. He rests his gaze on Keiji instead, who is completely unfazed.

He realizes that the other spirits can touch him, even though humans can’t.

*

The sorrow of it all crashes into Koutarou a few summers later, when he is ten.

“Koutarou!” Keiji calls out, “Koutarou! Where are you?”

Koutarou smiles mischievously from his place on the branch of a tree, camouflaged by the leaves.

When Keiji comes close, he swings backwards with his legs hooked onto the branch, his body hanging off.

“Boo!”

Keiji only gives a startled grunt and backtracks a little.

Koutarou’s disappointment is vast, and he perches himself back on the branch, sitting upright.

“…what are you doing?”

Koutarou can’t help the pout from forming on his lips. “I wanted to surprise you, but you weren’t scared at all!”

“Unfortunately.”

Koutarou huffs a disgruntled breath, but then he casts his eyes down, feeling a little shy about what he’s about to say next.

“Keiji, when we’re spending time together, can you take off your mask once in a while?”

He can almost see the quirk of Keiji’s eyebrows behind the mask.

“Sure,” Keiji says, already drawing the mask up, “But is there a reason for it?”

“Not really, but I just –”

Vertigo seizes him as he sways off the broken branch, and he sees it, in the moments that follow, that Keiji is running towards him with his arms stretched out, ready to catch him, ready to touch and save him, and Koutarou has never felt more afraid in his entire life.

Keiji abruptly stops and retracts his arms as Koutarou lands on his back on top of a cluster of shrubs.

Koutarou grimaces a little, but the pain isn’t too bad. That doesn’t stop him from shooting daggers at Keiji though.

“Sorry, Koutarou,” Keiji says, a little awkwardly, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” Koutarou grumps, with little to no malice, as he sits up, folding his legs under him.

Keiji rubs the nape of his neck, and the wind blows, gently.

“Hey, Keiji?”

He hears the forlorn tone in his own voice, how it stretches out in the space between him and Keiji.

Keiji closes that distance in a few strides, crouching down in front of Koutarou.

“What’s wrong, Koutarou?”

His lips stop trembling long enough for him to say, “No matter what happens, don’t touch me, okay?”

And then he’s crying, face streaked with rivulets of tears, chest heaving with sobs.

“No matter what, don’t touch me. Please.”

_I don’t want you to disappear._

Keiji doesn’t say anything, but Koutarou has come to learn that he never does when it’s something that can’t be fixed with words.

*

Summer rolls by again and Koutarou continues to see Keiji in the forest. In the summer after that, and during the ones that follow, he never fails to visit the forest.

Koutarou is a first-year in middle school, and he decides to go see Keiji in his school uniform.

(He doesn’t let his mother pack for him that summer.)

It’s a gakuran, black and still stiff at the collar, but Koutarou thinks it looks dashing on him, and he hopes Keiji thinks the same.

“It suits you.”

Keiji is as composed as ever as he says this, but his compliment sends Koutarou high on cloud nine.

Keiji stands up and beckons for Koutarou to walk with him, heading to the thicket where it’s cooler.

They amble side by side, a safe distance between them like always, as Koutarou tells Keiji how he’s started playing on the volleyball team, how his friends from elementary school are all in different schools now, how the cherry blossom trees that grow in his neighborhood had blossomed beautifully in spring.

Koutarou notices that their ages are gradually getting closer.

Keiji ages much more slowly than humans do, if at all.

As the years go by, Koutarou’s appearance changes; his height, his hair, his limbs, but Keiji still looks as same as the day they first met.

“I’ve almost caught up to you!”

Keiji is presumably studying him, greyish green eyes scrutinizing Koutarou from under the mask.

“I see you have. Looks like I can’t call you short anymore.”

Koutarou laughs, exuberant, and Keiji lifts his mask off, his lips curved in a diminutive smile, eyes soft.

Koutarou can’t tear his gaze away.

In the summer of when Koutarou is in his last year of middle school, it dawns upon him that there will come a day that he will surpass Keiji in age.

“Koutarou, come outside. I cut some watermelons.”

Koutarou blinks up at the ceiling, the image of Keiji and an older version of himself strolling through the forest dissipating.

He takes a seat beside his grandfather on the patio, eating the watermelon slices distractedly.

“The watermelons are really sweet this year,” his grandfather remarks happily, “The weather _has_ been pretty hot, so I suppose it’s not that much of a surprise.”

Koutarou wonders if he could snag a few slices and bring them to Keiji later.

“And since it’s been really hot this summer, it’s probably going to be really cold in winter.”

Koutarou pauses mid-bite. “Is that how it is?”

His grandfather nods, “This area is far from the ocean, so the temperature difference between summer and winter is vast. The bitter coldness of a winter following a particularly hot summer would probably freeze even the mountain god himself.”

_Winter._

Koutarou has never really considered what goes on in Keiji’s life during the other seasons, during the times that they are far apart.

The next day, on the day that Koutarou is to depart for the city, he hands Keiji a gift.

“A scarf?”

Koutarou flashes a toothy grin. “Yep! Use it in winter, okay? I hear that it’s gonna be pretty cold!”

Keiji hums in acknowledgment, still looking at the scarf.

Koutarou takes in the slenderness of his fingers, the paleness of his skin, the softness of his hair.

He pulls his gaze away and brings the grin back to his face. “Well then! I have to go now. I’ll see you next year!”

“Ah, yeah. I’ll see you next year, Koutarou.”

They wave goodbye, and Koutarou thinks that it’s going to be forever before summer comes again.

*

It’s winter, and Koutarou absolutely hates it.

It’s not snowing, but the sky is dreary, and the clouds are masses of heavy darkness that cloaks the city in gloom.

Koutarou absolutely hates it.

“Bokuto! You’re going to be late. Coach is going to roast your butt when you get to the gym.”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll be there in a sec, you can go ahead without me.”

The team manager frowns at him, but leaves without saying anything further.

Koutarou takes his time to slip on his jersey and tie his shoelaces. He rakes his hair back using his fingers, sighing as he looks at himself in the mirror.

_“At least my hair isn’t all curly like yours!”_

He scoffs.

He looks down at his hands, at the contours and scratches and calluses, and furls them into fists.

He doesn’t feel like going to volleyball practice, but he goes anyway, thinking that it’s a good way to distract himself, to let time go by more quickly.

Summer isn’t going to come sooner if he skips practice.

*

He couldn’t sleep the previous night, but he has morning practice, so he still drags himself to school at the break of dawn, cursing the cold. White puffs of air escape his mouth as he huffs and tries to bury his face in the thick scarf that’s wrapped around his neck, and the train of thought that ensues is not a surprise, and has become more of an automatic response, an innate part of himself.

_I wonder if Keiji is keeping himself warm._

(He is. He’s using the scarf and is thinking of Koutarou as he sits alone by the torii steps.)

“Bokuto!”

His legs come to halt and he blinks at the sound of someone calling his name.

“Bokuto!”

He looks to his right, and sees the team manager beside him, worry etched on her features.

“There’s ice on the road,” she says, “You need to look where you’re going.”

Koutarou focuses his gaze to his feet. She’s right, there’s a thin layer of ice one step ahead of him.

“Honestly, you’ve been spacing out so much lately!”

The manager sighs, offering a hand for Koutarou to latch onto.

“Here, grab my hand before you slip and crack your head.”

There is a moment of stillness as a throb of pain sears across Koutarou’s chest, before it mitigates into a numb sensation, and he can’t move his body. The desire – the wish – that intrudes his mind and permeates his entire body has become a dull ache by now, given how often it passes by.

_I want to see Keiji._

He accepts her hand, and the skin on skin contact feels odd, feels out of place, like his hand is not made to touch hers, to hold it.

_I want to touch Keiji._

The walk to school feels long.

*

Koutarou is a first-year in high school, most of his baby fat gone and replaced by sturdier musculature, and he goes to see Keiji in his uniform.

It’s a white button-up shirt with a grey blazer, blue tie, and black slacks, and he grins, wagging his eyebrows at Keiji.

“…what have you done to your hair?”

And he has dyed his black hair with streaks of white.

He laughs weakly, smug expression wiped off, “Ah, I wanted to try out this one hair style, but I still haven’t gotten the hang of it.”

He can feel Keiji’s judgmental eyes boring into him from behind the fox mask.

“What kind of hairstyle requires you to imitate the hair color of the elderly?”

Koutarou blushes a little, suddenly feeling that this whole idea is silly.

“Owl horns,” he mumbles, averting his eyes.

Keiji doesn’t say anything for a while, but then Koutarou catches sight of the little tremors in his shoulders.

“Hey, don’t laugh!”

“I’m not laughing,” Keiji says, even though it has become evident that he is.

“My high school is literally called Owl Academy, okay! And since I’m planning to become the ace of the volleyball team, my friend suggested this hairstyle to motivate me!”

“Alright, okay, I understand,” Keiji says, voice still rich with amusement. “Come on then, tell me all about high school.”

And so Koutarou does, as they stroll through the forest.

It doesn’t escape his notice that he and Keiji are now the same height.

His shoulders are also broader than Keiji’s, and he knows that it won’t take long before he becomes taller than him.

Keiji seems to have noticed too.

“You’ve grown a lot over the past year.”

“Y- yeah. I told you before right? That I’m still growing!”

“I’ve also noticed that you don’t try to tackle me anymore nowadays,” Keiji says mildly.

“Can you blame me? After all that beating that you gave me?” Koutarou says, putting on a lopsided, wry grin, one eyebrow raised.

Keiji hums, and they reach the edges of the pond, the water glinting under the sun.

They sit on the grass, watching the calm surface of the water, wisps of white cloud languorously swimming in the ocean of the sky.

“Time has really passed by quickly,” Keiji remarks evenly.

Koutarou glances at him, then continues staring at the gentle ripples in the pond.

In an optimistic tone he says, “You know, Keiji, I can’t wait to graduate. When I do, I’m going to find a job nearby. That way, I can be with you even more.”

Keiji has shifted a little so he could face him, but Koutarou continues on, even though he can feel the well suppressed astonishment emanating from Keiji.

“Not just in summer, but in autumn, and winter, and spring.”

When he turns to Keiji, he smiles.

“I can see you whenever I want, and we can be together! Always. Right?”

Keiji is reticent for a while.

“Koutarou, let me tell you about myself.”

Koutarou is a little surprised, but he waits, and listens.

“I’m not a spirit. But I’m not a human, either.”

He is calm as he says this.

“I was once human, but I was abandoned in the forest as a baby. All I could do was cry, and wait for death to come.”

Koutarou draws his knees up, hugging them to his chest.

“But the spirits soon found me, and the mountain god appeared to cast a spell on me that would allow me to live. I’m more of a ghost, if anything.”

There is a strange pause.

“Koutarou, it’s okay if you forget about me.”

Keiji lifts one hand, examining it as if it were not part of him.

“A body that’s supported by magic is very weak. If a human touches it, the body will disappear.”

He curls his fingers, and when he speaks next, his voice is an octave lower, almost cynical.

“Something as fragile as this…”

“Something that disappears when it’s touched – isn’t that just like snow?” Koutarou says, an uncharacteristically small smile on his lips.

Keiji lowers his hand, silent.

“Keiji, I thought of you during winter. Even during autumn, and during spring, I thought of you.” The smile stretches wider, but Koutarou’s voice remains tender, vulnerable.

“Keiji, don’t forget about me.”

He doesn’t let his expression crumble when he repeats,

“Don’t forget.”

*

_Time will one day separate us, but even so, until then,_

_let’s continue to stay together._

 

*

“The spirit festival?”

Keiji chuckles, “No, it’s a festival held by the spirits.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“The nuance is different, don’t you think?”

“I guess so?”

Keiji rests his chin on one hand, the other keeping a steady hold on his fishing rod.

“So what do you say? I’ve always wanted to go with you, but I thought of waiting until you’re a little older. Can you sneak out tonight?”

Koutarou beams, jumping up to his feet, the bucket of fish they caught forgotten. “I would love to go!”

“Good. Meet me at the usual place at 8.”

Koutarou’s face scrunches up a little as he thinks. “But a spirits’ festival huh? That sounds kinda unnerving.”

“Don’t worry. The spirits hold it to have some harmless fun themselves. It’s a festival that’s supposed to imitate the ones that humans have after all.”

Keiji lifts his mask, revealing a smile. “Besides, I’ll be there to protect you.”

Koutarou’s heart skips a beat.

He squeals. “When you say smooth things like that so calmly, it makes me want to glomp you!”

“Then you should do it.”

The excitement is erased from Koutarou’s face and posture.

“I won’t mind if you do,” Keiji continues.

This time, it is Koutarou who does not respond, who does not say anything.

*

Orange lights and blue apparitions float in the night air.

The atmosphere is merry, and there is music and laughter.

“It really is like a human festival!”

Koutarou smiles as he takes in the stalls lined up next to one another, the hollering vendors that try to attract customers, the groups of children running around; the wonder of it all.

“Are they all disguised as humans?”

Keiji nods. “Impressive, isn’t it? I hear that humans sometimes unknowingly make their way into the festival too.”

“Oho? So what my grandfather said was true then.”

“What did he say?”

Koutarou grins, starting to walk ahead. “Nothing!”

“Koutarou, wait.”

Keiji pulls out a piece of cloth from the sleeve of his dark blue yukata, and holds out one end to Koutarou.

“Tie this on your wrist. I don’t want you to get lost in this crowd.”

Koutarou blinks, then smiles and nods enthusiastically.

“This feels like a date!” he sings, tying the cloth around his right wrist.

“That’s because it is a date,” Keiji sings back drily, the other end tied to his left wrist.

Hot pink immediately suffuses onto Koutarou’s cheeks, and he doesn’t hold back the huge smile that spreads over his face.

He’s wearing a grey yukata, something that he would wear to the village festival held at the end of summer, and his hair is a floppy mess, because he still hasn’t been able to style it the way he wants to.

_Next summer, maybe._

They eat octopus balls and apple candy, and the cotton candy that Keiji buys for Koutarou turns out to be a spirit that fluffs up and takes off into the sky, and they laugh as they wave it goodbye.

There are puppet plays and lion dances and taiko drum performances, and Koutarou’s eyes widen and glimmer in awe.

Keiji quietly stares at his profile, and turns away before he’s caught, smiling to himself from behind the fox mask.

(He doesn’t think he’s ready to say goodbye, but he knows he must.)

“That was so much fun!”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

“And it was sorta weird too! Like how everyone was wearing human disguises. Is it like this every year?”

“Yeah, every time summer comes…”

Keiji lapses into an odd silence as they walk side by side in the forest, away from the brightness and joy of the festival.

“Koutarou, I… can no longer wait for summer to come around.”

Koutarou whips his head to the side to look at Keiji, who keeps his gaze fixed ahead, his voice collected.

“When I’m away from you, I have the strong urge to go see you, even though I can never be around other people.”

The words hang in the safe distance between them, and Koutarou squeezes his right hand, fighting the need to hold Keiji.

They come to a halt, standing still in the mantle of the night, the chirp of cicadas surrounding them, the glow of the fireflies and the moon providing illumination.

Keiji takes off his fox mask and puts it on Koutarou, before he leans forward and presses a kiss on the snout.

He takes one small step backwards, and smiles, soft.

“That mask… keep it.”

They continue walking.

_Next summer, he probably won’t come to that place anymore._

(The old torii gates, where he would usually wait for Koutarou.)

_Tonight is probably the last time we’ll be together._

Koutarou’s heart aches.

Two children run past them and one stumbles on his feet, and Keiji deftly catches the boy’s wrist and holds him steady.

Koutarou squats down in front of him, “Are you okay?”

The boy nods, smiling. “Thank you!”

The children run off, and Koutarou smiles after them.

In the periphery of his vision, there is a strange, faint luminosity, and he turns to see Keiji’s fingers radiating with a warm green glow before chipping off and fading away.

Koutarou’s heart drops.

“Keiji! Was that a human boy?”

Stunned, Keiji changes his wide-eyed gaze from his hand to Koutarou.

His eyes are greyish green, pupils sharp, and Koutarou doesn’t want him to disappear.

“Keiji!” Koutarou calls out, desperate.

Keiji’s eyes soften as a smile touches his lips.

“Come here, Koutarou. I can finally touch you.”

He spreads his arms out towards Koutarou, the fragments of his body leaving him in beautiful wisps of glowing green.

Koutarou tears off the mask and runs towards Keiji, his smile bright, his eyes watery.

He wraps his arms around Keiji, burying his face in the crook of his neck, and Keiji returns the embrace, both with their eyes closed.

Keiji feels warm.

Koutarou’s knees hit the ground, emptiness cradled between his arms.

Keiji’s whole body has disintegrated, and what’s left is the faint glow of the fireflies.

_“Koutarou, I love you.”_

_“And I love you, Keiji.”_

(Koutarou is sixteen when he loses him.)

Koutarou cries, but he is not alone.

He hears voices, and soon sees the silhouette of the spirits from behind the trees and shrubs.

_“Thank you, human child.”_

_“We wished to be with Keiji forever, but he’s always longed for human contact.”_

_“He finally got to embrace another human. Thank you, Koutarou.”_

Koutarou picks up the fox mask that’s lying on the ground.

His eyes are swollen, and his heart constricts with unbearable pain.

Deep green. This is the forest of the mountain god, the abode of the spirits.

_I probably won’t be coming to this place again anytime soon._

He holds the fox mask close to his chest as he walks out of the forest, down the shrine steps, back to the village path.

_My chest will hurt, and my tears will be overflowing._

_But this warmth in my hands, these summer memories…_

_I will always remember them._

 

Summer comes and goes. Summer comes and goes.

(And Koutarou lives on, with Keiji in his heart.)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> stage 4 of shipping: make them suffer
> 
> hmu at http://nakasomethingkun.tumblr.com/


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